


sympathy for the devil

by fluffysfics



Series: the most infuriating seventy seven years of his life [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Introspection, The 1970s, but he’s also a little bit terrible, dramatic guitar playing, the Master gets to be happy, the Master’s time on Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Clearing up after a staff party, the Master and his lab assistant have a talk about the past.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: the most infuriating seventy seven years of his life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147559
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	sympathy for the devil

**Author's Note:**

> in case anyone thinks I’m a genius for coming up with this setting- I Did Not, the setting and characters are from the book ‘I Am The Master’, which I very strongly recommend because it’s fantastic and at least 34% gay

The move to Russia had been something of a whim. What with the Cold War feeling considerably less cold some of these days, the Master had found himself growing increasingly tired of rampant, noisy capitalism. What better antidote, he had thought, than to immerse himself in the exact opposite for a while? It had only seemed logical. 

Nearly a year later, it’s 1976, and he’s living the dream. Employed by a shadowy government agency who are all too happy to throw money at him and let him do what he wants, even if that involves occasionally murdering an employee or two. If his assistant was a pretty young blonde instead of a six foot tall lizard woman with three eyes, he’d _basically_ be the Doctor. 

That’s another perk of this job, actually. He gets to be the Doctor, without ever actually having to _see_ the Doctor. One massive continent and an ocean away, that one with the white curls and the fancy velvet suits is pottering around a lab at UNIT, mumbling about reversing polarities and fixing up his ridiculous car. 

And here he is, the Master, fresh from hosting a party for the rather overworked staff of Yedinitza, which has turned out to be a surprisingly direct Russian equivalent to UNIT. He’s well-liked here, and that’s only _partially_ because he’s had a few private hypnosis sessions with just about everyone who wields any power. The real reason he’s liked is because he’s a scientist, because he’s clever and charming and he gets things done, and it feels _incredible_. 

Maybe he should consider buying himself a velvet suit or two, he thinks to himself. 

“You’re smiling,” his assistant, K’vo, observes. She’s busy cleaning up after the party- he should probably be helping, but he’s comfortable on the chaise longue, guitar in hand. The Rolling Stones’ entire discography won’t learn itself, after all. 

“Am I?” He glances up at her, taking brief stock of his own face. Maybe he is. 

“Yes. Is it about the woman, or the UNIT one?” K’vo fixes him with a piercing gaze that suggests that she’d really like to be helped with all of these glasses and crumb-filled plates scattered around the place, and the Master cheerfully ignores it. 

“So observant, my dear. Although, I’ve told you before- they’re the same person. I can’t smile about one without smiling about the other.” 

“You’re very strange, Mischa.” K’vo is as blunt as ever. “I think it’s the UNIT one. You always smile more sadly when it’s about the woman.” 

She’s not wrong. The Master says nothing, and starts on _Sympathy for the Devil_. He knows that song best, so he can play it louder. 

For a couple of minutes, K’vo doesn’t push him, just keeps on cleaning up glasses. There’s a mildly annoyed slant to her posture, which the Master does not notice in the slightest. And then- 

“Do you love her?” 

_Sympathy for the Devil_ comes to a screeching halt. 

The Master sits up, fixing K’vo with an even, dangerous gaze. “You’d do well not to ask me that.” 

She tilts her head in the reptilian equivalent of doubtfully raising an eyebrow. If only she had humanoid facial features, she’d have even him beaten in the ‘snarky expressions’ department. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll hypnotise you again,” he threatens. “But I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Normally, that’s enough to fluster her and get her to change the subject. But apparently not tonight. 

“You won’t,” she says, folding her arms. “You like that someone calls you Master without having to be under your spell. So my mind will remain my own. And I still want an answer to my question.” 

She’s exactly right. The Master brings his hand down angrily on his guitar, striking a jarring chord that rings through the basement room. Then he starts to play again; it’s not a song this time, just quiet, fiddling chords, soft and melancholy. It’s mostly because he needs something to do with his hands, but a little bit of him likes to think that he’s setting his story to background music. 

K’vo goes back to cleaning up, knowing full well that she’s won. The Master gives himself a minute. It’s been a long, long time since he’s talked about this with anyone; he needs to get his words in order. 

“Yes, I love her,” he says eventually. He can’t bring himself to look at K’vo; he focuses on his guitar instead, watching each string vibrate and then still as he plucks it. “I’ve done so for almost as long as I’ve been alive. Sometimes, I think she loves me back. Sometimes, I think I’m nothing more than an ant to her. Sometimes...sometimes, I feel that both are true.” 

“And you are living out your life to wait for her? That’s what you told me once- fifty more years, and you’d see her again.” 

“I’m...” The Master trails off, trying to find a way of framing his existence on Earth that doesn’t revolve around the Doctor. She stranded him here, he is living to meet her and make her regret what she did to him. Everything in between is just a series of ultimately meaningless events, some good and some bad. It’s all just life, until he gets back to 2020. “...Yes.” 

K’vo gives him a long, hard stare. “Is there a chance that you could take a short break from your pining? There is still a lot of cleaning up to be done.” 

Maybe he’d have considered saying yes, but having to talk about his feelings for the Doctor has not done much for his generosity. “No,” he says, standing up and stashing his guitar safely back in its case. “Goodnight, K’vo.” 

She looks like she wants to scowl at him, just for a second. But she keeps herself in check, and smiles a very sharp and pointy smile at him. “Goodnight, Master.” 

——

The subway ride home is long, and quiet, and free of any ominous mystery passengers for once. It’s just him, in this rattly old carriage, all by himself. It’s nice. 

The Master settles back in his seat, letting his head fall against the wall. Resting in that way means that the movement of the train vibrates right through his bones to the point where he can barely feel anything else, and that’s what he needs right now. 

He likes K’vo. He really, genuinely does. Discovering one reptile that had survived the hibernation process they’d all entered millions of years ago had been electrifying; he’d jumped up and down and clapped his hands for joy when he’d watched her emerge from her stasis pod. 

Sometimes, though, letting himself get close to someone else is incredibly inconvenient. It makes it harder to say no, harder to deflect their questions. How is he supposed to refuse a...a _friend_? Is that even the right word? 

Ugh. These thoughts are troublesome enough that the Master almost _wishes_ for a mysterious stranger to slip into the carriage and start threatening him. 

He’s happy here in Russia. For the first time in thirty years, he has a life and a plan and a network of people who care. Who need him, and like him, and _adore_ him. He’s seen the way most people here, regardless of gender, look at him; he could command some truly filthy things from them and it probably wouldn’t even take hypnosis for them to obey him. Just a shame he’s hardly interested in humans, really. 

It’s best not to follow that train of thought too far, though, or else he’ll start wondering who he _is_ interested in, and then his thoughts will drift to blonde hair and sparkling hazel eyes and rainbows. 

_He’d give up his whole life in Russia for a chance at redemption in her eyes_. 

The thought strikes him suddenly, and it makes him jolt- the Master’s eyes snap open, and he scrubs one hand through his hair as if that’ll somehow clean out his mind. Surely that’s not true. What is he _thinking_? He’s happy here, and she seems to hate him. Maybe her version of a chance at redemption would be to choke the life out of him. Or maybe that’s too intimate, and she’d prefer to shoot him, or just lock him up somewhere where he doesn’t have to be her problem. 

Cautiously, he probes at that unwelcome thought a little more. He imagines various scenarios in which he meets the Doctor, how those confrontations would play out. What he would do, how he would feel. 

The subway train shudders to a grinding halt just as he concludes that yes, he really would give up this life at her command. In a heartsbeat, in fact. 

_Damnit_. 

On a positive note, the Master thinks that he might be feeling about fourteen percent less tortured about that than he would have done a few decades ago. 

He gets off the subway, starting the short walk back to his flat. The night air is cold and crisp; enough so that it makes his lips and tongue feel slightly numb to breathe it in too deeply. It’s a little painful, so naturally, the Master stops walking- he leans against a lamp post, and watches his breath crystallise and spiral off up into the sky. 

Perhaps he simply has to accept that he’s never going to get over the Doctor. No matter what he does, how hard he tries, maybe there will never be a time where he wouldn’t drop to his knees in an instant at her command. She is so much more than him, but she is _his_ , and he has never craved anything more than he craves the feel, even the _sight_ of her. 

Perhaps his time in Russia is running short, or perhaps he’ll be here for decades. He really _is_ happy here; gazing up at the stars twinkling above him, the Master genuinely can’t think of many places he’d rather be. The whole wide universe, and he’s happy with a lizard for a companion and a basement laboratory in Soviet Russia. 

Smiling softly to himself, he shakes his head, and peels himself away from the lamppost to continue his walk back home. 

_Home_. Now, _that’s_ a strange concept. Strange, but...it feels right. He’ll accept it for now. 

He’s done quite enough questioning his identity for one night. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this one, I’m really happy with how it came out! comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


End file.
